"Tell them the Muse sent you," the Muse mimicked herself as she leapt from building to building. "Could I be any more of a dweeb?"
She glided over the buildings as if they were rocks on a river.
"I need to come up with a better tag line," she told herself and began rehearsing a few, "I am the Muse! No…
That's Ms. Muse to you! Yuck…No more Musing around!
That's terrible…."
She continued like this until she reached her home.
Home was a brightly painted Victorian townhouse built in the classic, historical style of many of the houses in San Francisco.
Her bedroom was on the top floor. She balanced herself on the gutter and did a backward flip into her open window.
She stopped as she landed on the floor and listened to make sure she did not wake any of her family. I n the darkness of her room she removed her mask and costume to reveal Emma Sonnet: a high school junior and adopted daughter of the Sonnet family.
Little did the Sonnet's realize that the daughter they adopted was actually the embodiment of a Muse from the ancient days of Greece ? when the gods and mortals walked hand and hand. Anyone who studied Greek myths was aware of the nine Muses, each helping to inspire an art form. But no one knew of the 10th Muse ? the inspiration for justice.
And this secret Muse was, at that moment, buttoning her pajamas and crawling into bed.
Emma yawned. She wasn't sure if it was out of exhaustion or boredom. Since her early teens, her powers to fight injustice had been revealed with an irresistible urge to roam the night in search for wrong doers and protection of the innocent. Unfortunately, she thought, not much happened in the suburbs that surrounded her home. A few muggings, the occasional break-in and car thefts…nothing to write home to Mount Olympus about.
She wished that either she could be like normal kids and go out with friends at night without her altered gymnastics outfit…or that something exciting would happen. Something big!
Of course, she had no idea what was in store. Be careful what you wish for!
Her alarm came way too early. She had been asleep for a couple of hours, but it didn't feel that way at all. Instinctively, she hit snooze.
The alarm went off again nine minutes later. Why was it always nine, not ten. Who got any sleep in nine minutes?
Still, Emma hit the button for another nine minutes of sleep.
Which only felt like five seconds.
"You're lying," the groggy Emma shouted at her alarm clock, pulled it out of the wall and threw it across the room.
"Sleep is good," she said and covered her head with a pillow. Before she could fall back asleep, there came a pounding on her door.
"Rise and shine, pumpkinhead!" her mother called from behind the door.
"Pumpkinhead…wasn't that the villain in a horror flick?" she thought. Luckily Emma had convinced her parents to put a lock on her door so they couldn't get in. They assumed it was because she was entering her teens and wanted privacy.
Little did they realize it was so she could sneak out at night and fight crime.
"Uggghh…five more minutes!" Emma shouted.
"You've gotta get up," her mother said, not going anywhere. "I am not writing any more excuses to Mr. Lewis. If you're late, you'll have to deal with him on your own."
Her mother went down to the kitchen, but Emma knew she'd be back.
It was no use fighting. Emma had to face the day. She pushed herself out of bed and gathered her stuff for the day.
After showering, dressing and blow-drying her hair, she joined her family down in the kitchen for breakfast.
For parents who unknowingly adopted a superhero, they were surprisingly normal. Almost too normal for Emma. She heard stories of her friends' parents and the crazy things they did, but she never had any tales to share about her parents.
Her father was a judge and though well respected, he never had any exciting cases. There were no celebrity murders or soap opera-style surprise witnesses. He rarely even talked about his work, and Emma had only seen pictures of him in his robe. She had never even been to his courtroom.
Her mother was a substitute teacher for the San Mateo school district. She didn't work everyday, so she spent her free time getting heavily involved in the community. Her mother belonged to more clubs than Emma could count, but she was still always home to make dinner. And her father always washed the dishes.
"They're so disgustingly predictable," Emma would tell her friends. "They're so normal, they're abnormal."
They had a morning routine, which usually involved Emma running into the kitchen late and gulping down a glass of orange juice and heading out with a bagel clenched between her teeth. This morning, she wasn't doing too badly, so she sat at the table and had a bowl of some healthy cereal that her mother had purchased.
"Mmm…fiber," she thought sarcastically.
Her dad read the paper and had his coffee. Her mother wrote in her day-planner.
"I swear," her mother said to her, "If we let you, you'd sleep your entire life away."
"I'm just not a morning person, " she replied.
Emma wasn't lying either. It's hard to be a morning person when you don't get in until three a.m.
"What is on your agenda for today?" her father asked.
"I'm going to stay after school to practice for the Tri-City Olympics," she informed him.
Every year, three of the local high schools hold a week-long series of sports competitions that are conducted like the Olympics. This was the first year that Emma had signed up for it.
"Are you sure you're not spreading yourself too thin with the debate team and all?" he asked her.
"No," Emma lied. She always felt she had to take on all these extracurricular activities in order to conceal her secret identity but her plate was more than full…it was running off the edges.
"I for one can't wait to see you perform," her mother said. "It's been so long since you competed."
"I competed at the YMCA last summer," Emma reminded her mother.
"That was so long ago," she said. "If I had my way, I'd watch you perform every week."
Emma appreciated her mother's enthusiasm, but had to tease her. "If you'd like, we can set up parallel bars in the living room and you can watch me all day long."
"That sounds like a great idea," her mother replied dryly, then turned to her husband. "What do you think about that, dear?"
"I'll look into it," he replied without looking up from the paper.
"Great," Emma thought with a smile, "I'm living with a bunch of comedians."
"Wow!" Dawn exclaimed. "You're on time today!
What happened?"
Emma met her best friend at their usual meeting spot by the school flagpole. Around it sat a tiny courtyard littered with benches. Dawn stretched out in one of them.
"I lost my battle with the alarm clock," Emma told her friend.
Dawn dressed a little more unusual than the other kids.
In fact, she was considered the "goth chick" of the school. She wasn't too deep into that scene, but enjoyed dressing in darker, unusual clothes and was always dying her naturally red hair various colors. A bridge of freckles sprinkled over her high cheekbones and pretty nose. At one time she attempted to cover them with heavy make-up, but then she realized they made her look different, and that was cool.
Where as most "goth chicks" are into music and dark poetry; Dawn was a sci-fi buff. She enjoyed everything from Star Wars movies to Ray Bradbury novels. She spent her Saturday nights watching sci-fi movies and her Sundays reading piles of old sci-fi fantasy books she picked up at used bookstores.
She also enjoyed reading and collecting comic books, but didn't tell that to many people. Girls weren't supposed to like superheroes, but she thought they were the coolest of all.
"Eww…. I stepped in gum!" Emma exclaimed as she took off her sneaker to wipe it on the cement.
As she did this, Dawn asked her, "Wanna go over to Berkeley after school?" That was where all her favorite used bookstores were.
"Can't," Emma said. "I have gymnastics practice."
"Oh," Dawn said almost sadly. She was involved in no after school activities. She never really felt they were for her.
"Hey guys," the third member of their group greeted as he joined them. This was Brett.
To most people at the school he was considered the "geek" or the "nerd." Probably because of his small figure, thick horn-rimmed glasses and high intelligence. But those who really got to know him saw another side. To his friends, Brett was a funny, sarcastic young man with a heart of gold.
The three had been friends since freshman year. They shared many of the same classes and the same attitude of the world around them. Granted, Emma was a bit more involved with school activities than the rest of them, but she never saw herself as one of the popular kids.
"Wow," Brett made a realization. "Impressive. No tardy slip for you today? That's a first."
"This is why I'm late," she told them. "So I don't have to take any guff from you guys."
"Guff?" Dawn laughed, "Nobody says guff anymore.
That's so ancient."
"You calling me a relic?" Emma grinned teasingly.
"You wanna go to Berkeley after school?" Dawn tried her luck with Brett.
"Sorry," he said, "I have computer club."
Emma suddenly felt a chill. She knew why the moment she turned to see Grayson Bishop and a pack of his friends coming toward her. Grayson was the most arrogant guy in the school. He was captain of the wrestling team and one of the best football players in the school. He was also a member of the debate team with Emma. He seemed to be perfect in everything, and didn't let you forget it. It didn't help matters that his parents were rich socialites who spoiled him to no end.
"Here comes the brat pack," Brett warned.
"More like a serious of snakes," Dawn corrected.
Grayson's posse was made up of the best athletes in the school. George Saul was his partner in crime when it came to wrestling. Peter Kelley was the captain of the football team and Derek Archer the quarterback. Towering over them was Bart Johnson, the star of the basketball team.
"Emma!" Grayson called to her. He broke away from his posse and came over to them. His eyes were set on only Emma, as if Dawn and Brett did not exist.
Grayson did have the good looks going for him. His deep brown eyes highlighted his boyish face. His slick black hair had a streak of white in the front, a trademark he had since he was born. He had the build of a wrestler: a large, muscular upper body and firm legs. And to top it off, he always wore the latest, most expensive style of clothing. On his right hand, his high school ring glistened in the sunlight, his own personal icon of being the school's pride and joy.
He stood with his arms folded, casting his shadow over the sitting Emma, who fumbled, but failed to get her sneaker back on.
"You should study for the next debate with me," he said.
"Why?" Emma asked. "We always end up the captains of the opposite teams."
"But I can help you plot out your arguments a little better," he said, "So my team doesn't embarrass yours too horribly."
"Gee Grayson, with a charming offer like that it's hard to say no," Emma said. "But…hmmm…no."
"When are you going to stop hanging out with the minor league players," Grayson said, motioning towards Brett and Dawn, "And start playing with the majors?"
"I used to be drum major for the junior high school marching band," Brett said.
"That's not what I mean!" Grayson snapped. "And I wasn't talking to you."
"Obviously," Brett muttered under his breath.
Grayson turned to Emma. "You know where to find me if you ever want to trade up," he said flashing his best smile.
"The gym right?" Emma asked sarcastically.
Grayson didn't get it, "Yeah, most afternoons. When we don't have debate team meetings, that is."
Emma held back her laughter until he was gone.
"He likes you," Dawn said lyrically.
"Please don't go there," Emma said. "The idea of him fantasizing about me is enough to make me puke."
"So he won't be your junior prom date then?" Brett asked in jest.
"That does it," Emma said and playfully began beating Brett with her sneaker.
Before they knew it, the three were chasing each other into the school just in time for the homeroom bell to ring.
Emma truly enjoyed school. She was always keen on learning new things and reviewing the things she already knew. The only problem was it was so darn early in the morning.
Math was most difficult. It was second period and by then she was drained by her poor breakfast and monotonous history class. It was hard for her to keep her eyes open as her teacher reviewed formulas.
Luckily, third period was gym and Dawn was there to keep her awake. She loved sports like basketball, archery and soccer. Although she always had to hold back on her abilities, not wanting to give away her identity by appearing too good.
Sports got her blood going until lunch where she hung out again with Brett and Dawn. After the sugar rush from eating a pack of chocolate donuts wore off, she became fatigued and found it hard to keep her eyes open during the next two periods. Luckily, the last class of the day was art.
Emma was into art. She could even stay awake through class. One of her favorite things to do was to sketch. She kept a few sketchbooks at home she would use in her rare moments of free time. In art class they worked on everything from portraits to landscapes. Emma liked drawing people. She never asked them to pose. She would watch them from afar and would remember their features to illustrate later.
"Are you excited about the Olympics," Julia Dalton asked her. Julia was on the gymnastics team, too. She wasn't the best gymnast, but was a very sweet and encouraging person.
"Yeah," Emma said. "It's going to be fun."
"And you're sure to win," Julia told her.
"I dunno," Emma found herself blushing. "We have a great team. I bet we win all three medals."
"But you'll take home the gold," Julia said.
"Thanks," Emma replied modestly, "but we'll just have to wait to see what happens."
Emma met Dawn at her locker after school. "Are you going to head into Berkeley?" she asked Dawn.
"I doubt it," Dawn replied.
"You can come watch us practice then."
"No thanks," Dawn said. She honestly couldn't think of anything more boring than sitting in the bleachers watching other girls do flips and somersaults.
"I'll call you tonight and go over the English homework," Emma told her. Between the phone and the Internet, Brett, Dawn and Emma were in constant contact.
"Joy," Dawn replied with nonchalance typical of her cool but friendly attitude. The girls went in separate directions.
The gym was packed. It seemed everybody had Tri-city Olympics fever. A huge banner hung over half the gym announcing the games and the dates of the events.
There were multiple-activities going on at the same time. In the center, a row of mats was set up for wrestling.
Grayson Bishop stood all puffed up in his shorts and tank top, appearing as if he were about to eat the other players alive.
Track stars like Owen Cappola, Jr. and Missy Wilson were running laps around the basketball court. Next to the gym was the swimming pool, where Dani Schoder, Kyle Black and other students practiced for the swimming and diving competitions.
The corner near the entrance was set up for male gymnastics, the familiar perch for the Walker twins. The far corner, home for female gymnastics, was Emma's destination.
As Emma made her way across the gym to the girls'
locker room, she felt Grayson's eyes watching her every move.
That boy couldn't take a hint. She was not at all interested in him. They were far too different. But he never gave up.
Sometimes Emma felt he saw her as just another sports' trophy.
After changing into the snazzy numbered school jump suit that smelled like old cookies from the laundry detergent the school used, she jogged to the gym mat and started with the rings. With ease, she jumped up and took hold of them.
Suddenly, she was turning around like a ballerina stuck on spin.
"You go girl!" Nancy Greene called up to her.
"I told her she's going to win the gold," Julia agreed.
For show, Emma made herself loose her grip and fall off the rings.
"I need more practice," she told the girls.
"Not much," one of them said.
But Emma's attention was drawn away from them. She found herself focusing on the other end of the gym where the boys were practicing. Her powers automatically tuned her in when an injustice was being performed. She didn't know what was happening, she just sensed something was wrong.
She hopped back on the rings, practicing for hours.
Somehow she knew she would need to be in tip-top shape.
The moment night fell, Emma donned her Muse outfit and slipped out her window. Since gymnastics practice a bad feeling had hung over her like a storm cloud. She had to get out and patrol the city and see what was the matter.
She leapt from roof to roof, making her way into the heart of the city. If there were any troubles, they usually happened there.
Her family lived in North Beach, so downtown wasn't too far. She made her way by hopping on rooftops and telephone polls.
As the Muse, she learned that people never looked up at night. She could crawl around completely unnoticed in the world above them.
As she reached the edge of downtown, she scaled to the top of the tallest hotel and gazed out over the city. Before her spread a sea of lights. She stood on the ledge and waited for her instinct to kick in.
It didn't.
Owen Cappola, Jr. was the only one left in the high school gym. He raced around the track, pushing himself to go faster and faster. Granted, he was the best track star in the school, but that was never good enough for his father. His father practically demanded that he win the Olympic games.
Owen Cappola, Sr. was the star of the high school football team in the late 1960s. He was the best quarterback the school had even seen. To this day, his picture and trophies still hung in the trophy room.
To his dismay, his son was too scrawny to play football, so in order to maintain the Cappola reputation Mr. Cappola commanded his son to take track. Owen did and he was good, but his father pushed him further.
Since the Cappola's were so well known, it was no big deal to give them a key to the gym. Owen spent most afternoons and evenings there knowing if he didn't win, he would never hear the end of it from his father.
Owen Cappola, Jr. trained until his legs almost gave out.
He wiped his sweaty face with the already sweat drenched towel and made his way into the locker room.
There was something creepy about showering alone in the gym at night. Every little sound echoed. After a quick rinse, he turned off the water and made his way back to his locker looking around every corner as if something from a scary movie was going to jump out and get him. He dried off quickly, threw on the clothes and tied his shoes as fast as he could.
Tossing the rest of his gear in his locker, he turned off the lights in the locker room and hustled toward the gym.
"Anybody there?" he shouted as he crossed the dark-ened courts heading toward the girls locker room. His biggest fear besides the scary movie thing was that he would acciden-tally lock the place up, leaving someone stuck in the girls' locker room, but they were usually gone long before he was.
Reaching the row of light switches, he flipped them off.
The gym went black except for a tiny emergency light by the door that stayed on all the time. Owen quickened his pace, walking briskly to the door in the darkness. He let out a huge sigh of relief as he left the gym, bolting the door behind him.
Owen made his way through the yard behind the school.
He didn't live too far from there and although the field was spooky in the dark, it was the quickest way home.
As he walked, he had a strange feeling that someone was following.
He stopped and listened for footsteps.
Nothing.
He turned and scanned the schoolyard. By now, his eyes had adjusted to the night and nothing appeared different in the schoolyard.
When the hairs on his neck stood up, he quickened his pace.
Then, something snapped behind him.
Instead of stopping to look, Owen began to run. He knew whoever it was would not be able to outrun him.
His heart pounded as he ran faster and faster. His adrenaline had kicked in making his tired wobbly legs history. He was certain the ground was pounding as hard as his heart. Realizing the sound was the footsteps of the person gaining on him, Owen pushed himself harder.
He felt a warm breath on his neck.
Emma felt a chill.
She scanned the city below her, but saw nothing. Was it just the nightly drop in temperature?
The city appeared calm. Not even a car theft this evening.
Maybe she had too much on her mind. Maybe her senses were over-reacting. Maybe she shouldn't have eaten those sugar donuts for lunch.
There was no one to save, she was beat and decided to head home.
Emma couldn't shake the bad feeling as she crawled into bed. It felt like something had attached itself to the base of her spine and was maliciously tickling her vertebrae.
She tossed and turned all night long, finally waking up and getting out of bed long before her alarm clock rang. Her parents were caught off guard when she came in and sat at the breakfast table.
Her mother glanced at her watch and asked, "Did my battery die?"
"Or maybe it's Saturday," her father chuckled.
"This is why I don't get up early," Emma kidded them.
